The Scorpio Directive
by Virtual Delirium
Summary: Anne and Akira spend frequent flyer points on the Mile High Club.. [Tags: Shujinkō x Ann Week, Day 5 - Late Night, Lemon, Plot - what plot?]


Shujinkō x Ann Week

~Late Night~

"The Scorpio Directive"

* * *

**Author's Note: For this one-shot, shujink****ō ****has been set to 'Akira Kurusu'. The Lovers Arcana confidante has been set to her Japanese locale name, 'Anne Takamaki'. This is a no-powers AU. Akira and Anne are two working adults, who have never had fortean experiences. **

* * *

Chrome switches flicked. Akira engaged the plane into autopilot and checked the altitude reading. Mitsuru's HondaJet Elite was maintaining an altitude of ten thousand feet while cruising at a comfortable speed of 700 km/hr. Time was 12:02 AM. This subsonic jet will be flying lonely above the moonlit stratosphere clouds for next 4 hours in European airspace, until they arrived at the Amalfi Coast to pick up the billionaire belladonna and her entourage.

The intercom buzzed. The private jet's only stewardess was pinging him. Akira nascent grinned, knowing what it was about. Akira got up from his seat, taking off his pilot jacket. Best not ruin the tailored black cotton with stains. He did decide to keep the captain's hat on. Akira pressed the speaker button.

"Yes Anne?"

"Is the plane on auto, captain?" Anne asked through the speaker.

"She is. This bird will be fine handling on its own for a while. Why? Is something the matter?" Akira asked with deliberate innocence.

A faint 'Hmph' reported from the other end.

"Ah - ha. Please come on out here, _O' captain_," said Anne, attenuating her closing words on a needful note.

As soon as Akira opened the cockpit door, Anne pulled him by the tie. His pepper stubble chin grazed Anne's cerise lipsticked pout, before she caressed Akira by the edge of his jaw. Akira's lips were guided closer to Anne's mouth - teasing. A breathy gasp tickled on Akira's upper lip when his hands slipped under her pencil skirt from behind. Anne's eyelashes fluttered as strong palms felt up from her thighs, rubbing friction against her dark-tone stockings.

"You're still holding onto my tie," said Akira.

Anne lightly tugged at the black neckwear. She tilted her head, eyes looking up at Akira, demure.

"Maybe you're going to have to _make me_ let go," said Anne.

"Oh?"

Anne's knees trembled when Akira pressed her against his taller frame. Anne's hips jerked into a grind against Akira, her body remembering the memories of the satyr she had been sleeping with for three weeks now, barely a week after Akira joined Kirijo Group's aviation staff.

A zipper went down. Anne's pencil skirt fell around her ankles. Akira's hands took to massaging her oblate buttocks, thumbs rubbing circles after squeezes. Anne's breathing laboured heavier, her grip weakening on the tie.

"How many countries have we ticked off now?" Akira asked bemused.

"…Ah…Russia…Luxemburg…Tahiti…eek! What are you…"

Akira kissed behind Anne's ear.

"Hey…I wasn't…ha…ready…" said Anne.

Anne's neck tilted into sideways as Akira suckled on her earlobe. Anne sighed contentedly. Her fingers slipped lower on the tie, barely holding onto it by the tips.

"Italy is going to be added to that now," said Akira.

"Mmhmm," she hummed.

Akira whispered Italian into her ear, "Sono innamorato di te, Anne."

Anne did not have a clue of what that meant, but the baritone accent of exotic words made her cream a little. The tie slipped from her grasp.

Anne's platform heels tipped forward, her arms leaning onto his broad shoulders. Anne crushed Akira's lips with her own. She tasted like toffee and other sweets in Akira's mouth. A leonine rumble rose in Akira's chest; the vibrato from his chesty groan sensitised Anne's nipple. Not breaking the kiss, Anne arched her back - her breasts snuggling up in reflex.

Anne's tongue laved into his mouth, seeking Akira's own wetness. Her fingers fondled at his collar. One button came undone. Two. Their kiss became wetter into wanton. An impatient whine rose in Anne's throat. Fingers curled in. Anne ripped open Akira's white shirt, snapping out buttons - clacking down the aisle.

Akira's felt a sting on his lower lip. Anne was rolling her teeth there, indulging herself. Getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we?

_Smack!_

Anne caterwauled at Akira's spank, breaking their kiss. She slid her hands over his shoulders, down to his bare chest. Anne felt down at his bulge. Her eyes narrowed down at it. Anne looked up at Akira. Boy was he a sight with the red lipstick smear slashing from his mouth to the jawline. The pilot-hat was lopsided, almost covering his left eye.

Anne bit her lip, those sensuous contours puckering in.

Anne got to her knees, her hands working to at Akira's belt buckle. Unclips and unzips. Down went his trousers. Akira hissed through clenched teeth, feeling the after-burn lines from Anne's sharp nails grazing on his hips, slipping beneath the hemline of his trunks; down went those.

Akira's cock sprang up, bearing precum. Anne whistled half-appreciatively, half-smirky, as if this was her first time sampling his dick. She kissed the tip, moistening her red lips with the precum. Anne's lips parted, taking his cockhead in. Her hands found their way to Akira's butt cheeks, talon squeezing them as she slowly pushed forward, taking more of his length.

Akira groaned, tilting his head back. His arms braced on the seat headrest behind, angling his pelvis at an incline, making it easier for Anne to bob on his shaft. Anne raunchily spat a gob of saliva on the bulbous gland. Akira closed his eyes. Cool air frisked on the saliva dribble, with Anne's warm tongue swirling in tandem around his length, melding and mixing her warm tongue in liquid ecstasy.

Anne sucked him for about ten minutes before plopping off. She sat back, her blonde curls tousled, cheeks in deep blush of arousal and need. Anne's bosom heaved in heavy respiration.

Akira got down to his knees. Anne lifted her hips, wiggling out of the expensive pantyhose.

"Here let me-" Akira's words were cut off when Anne clumped and stuffed the stockings into his mouth. Akira could smell and taste the overwhelming flavour of her quim.

"Taste that? That's what you've done to me," whispered Anne, spreading her pussy lips with two fingers. Anne's folds were almost dripping from her secretions. Her clit shied out, beneath the neat triangular patch of blonde on her mons.

Akira had been with several women before he met Miss Takamaki. They had all been attractive and memorable in their own ways. However, none of their pussy were as beautiful as Anne's.

Akira pulled the stockings out of his mouth and took off his hat. Grasping at Anne's ankles, Akira lifting them up to bury his face in. Anne gave a feline-like squeal as she felt the very _alive _presence of Akira's tongue inside of her.

"I fucking - love it…when you eat me out," panted Anne.

Anne's hips gyrated against Akira's face when he began to suck on her clitoris with the tenderness of loving a nipple. Her legs caved in, locking Akira's head as he went down on her. Anne's hips lifted kneejerk, her mons crashing into Akira's face. He pinned Anne down, putting her into submission.

The tempo picked up. His dick throbbed, aching to go in. Anne's moans became louder. Then - a buzzer rang from the cockpit.

_? _

Akira paused from giving head. Did he mess up the autopilot settings? Reluctantly, Akira looked back towards the cockpit.

The buzzer went off again.

Shit.

"I should…" began Akira.

Anne pressed her hand onto the back of Akira's neck, pulling his face down to her. Akira had Anne all worked up now and she did not want to let go of him just yet.

"You're not leaving until you fuck me!" demanded Anne.

Akira weighed the odds. Either the plane might crash with him balls deep in Anne. Or he could dare to 'blue ball' Anne, which Akira knew a classy lady like her would not take kindly to - of being denied the chance to be fucked silly.

"I'm out of condoms," Akira told her.

"That's okay. I'm on the pill this time," said Anne.

Akira paused. Part of him was wondering just how well did he know his colleague. The past three weeks, Akira had been working with Anne as pilot to stewardess, while taking advantage of these isolated late-night hours, orgasming (literally) in the heavens. How did Akira really know she was on the pill? Why would he risk it?

Akira looked at Anne for a moment. The way she was biting her lips. The desperate 'please-fuck-me' yearning in Anne's blue eyes. Her pink, inviting pussy, only inches away from Akira's straining cock.

. . .

Rationality jumped out the plane without a parachute.

Leaning forward, Akira's curls fell around his eyes. His cockhead pressed into Anne's warm, wet lips, splitting them apart. Their eyes searched each other's, then looked down. Akira's hips thrusted. Anne's closed her eyes, feeling the empty aching inside her fill up with lustful heat. Akira hilted into her all the way, sighing in ecstasy.

For a minute, neither of them moved – stillness stretching into the awareness of how deep Akira was inside Anne. Anne's breath hitched when she felt Akira shift inside her, the minute motion setting off tremors of pleasure because it felt _that _sensitive between them.

Akira's lips found Anne's. Her mouth parted. They kissed deeply and passionately, not able to get enough of each other. Anne's legs wrapped behind Akira, pushing him down on her in a mating press. The smell of spritzy vanilla and red berries wafted from Anne's sprawled mane of hair.

Not breaking their kiss, Akira began to thrust in and out of Anne, picking speed up quick. Perspiration came off both of them, drenching through layers in their half-dressed states. Anne was mewling into his mouth, banging her hips up against Akira, who came down on her, incessant. They fucked hard. Anne's pubic bone crashed against Akira's as they thrusted frantically into each other.

Pretty scents of hair conditioner overlapped with pungent odours of sex. Akira broke the kiss, arching his back leonine as he penetrated Anne. Squelching sounds of pussy and cock slicked and dripped. Anne moaned his name as her belly core churned molten sex simmering with the light burn from her arse rubbing against the carpet. Anne's awareness edged out, her mouth forming an 'O'.

Akira pumped again, his teeth in grit; sweat profusely bleeding from his brow. Anne's orgasm came. She instinctively hugged onto Akira, squealing into the hollow of his shoulder – the sound filling the entire plane cabin. The walls of her pussy viced and churned the shaft of Akira's cock as he rode out her climax.

Akira felt tingles well up in him. Anne grabbed at his bum cheeks, squeezing and spreading. Akira's thrusts crashed errant. He was close. Anne leaned up and kissed the cleft of his neck, suckling jolts of ecstasy. That sent Akira over the edge.

Hot shots of sperm unloaded into Anne's gulping pussy. Anne sighed contentedly, basking in the spunk lining her walls. Her pussy massaged all the dollops of cum out of Akira until she was brimming and spilling.

Lazy kisses and clean-up followed. Akira was relieved his dick did not get him killed tonight.

After finding the beeping noise was only a schedule message from flight control, Akira helped Anne remove remainder of the mess they made. His hand affectionately caressed her jaw longer than he needed too, as he tissue-wiped that speck of lipstick smear she missed.

* * *

The beach-side Italian town charmed tourists with its alcove ice cream parlours, wine vineyards and small-time live music performances, tucked between corners and narrow alleyways between bougainvillea hugged architecture.

It was morning time. Anne and Akira were seated inside a café, watching children toss coins into the wishing fountain. The glass panes of the café indistinctly vibrated when the town's church belltower tolled.

"Mitsuru says she needs one more night here to wrap up negotiations with the wine-makers," said Akira.

Anne leaned forward on the table, bracing her chin on her hand, magazine-cover shoot style. Her skin was lightly kissed by the Italian sun, acquiring a shade of tan in compliments to the sundress she wore.

"Oh? Guess you're stuck with me while the plane is grounded," said Anne.

Akira quirked an eyebrow.

"I suppose you're not the worst company to have at times like this. What's it going to be? The beach? Boutique?" asked Akira.

"The beach sounds good…but I don't want to spend too long outside-" Anne adjusted Akira's open collar, "-something tells me I'd like to head back to the hotel before evening," said Anne.

"My room? The patio has a view of where the sun sets. Maybe we can drink wine as daylight dies. I hear Barbaresco has a perfume to it," said Akira.

Anne smiled.

"I'd very much like that, Akira."

* * *

**Hope this was a worthwhile read. While I'm not bashful about writing smut, it's not something I'm capable of doing often or summoning with nonchalance. Writing a smut scene then wrenching my emotions out of it...the experience is somewhat comparable to how I felt back when I used to have one-night stands in my university/college days - too many times consecutively. Not exactly my thing x_x  
**

**Kudos to those who caught references to Agent 47's stint in Sapienza.**


End file.
